


I Dream of a Doctorate

by LitMech (PatrioticFrisbee)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Charles is a Student, Erik is a hot professor, Help, Kinda, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Teacher/Student, Things get awkward, Written while Ife was gone, what am I writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:02:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatrioticFrisbee/pseuds/LitMech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is in Class, But he's not paying attention to the lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Dream of a Doctorate

He couldn't help it. How could he be blamed, anyway? Just look at him, all tall and broad and confident. Look at his perfectly gorgeous, stupid face. He even talks with his hands--his giant. Strong...slender...hands.

Charles couldn't help it. He was head over heels for his World politics professor. He was gorgeous. And it hurt.

And he was talking about something important, but Charles couldn't be arsed to care because his shirt had ridden up just a little and Charles could see a hip bone. And christ.

Christ.

He was already hot and now he was bothered, wondering what that little tanned patch of skin tasted like. What it felt like. What would Dr. Lehnsherr do if Charles slithered his hands up under his shirt. Was he really as chiselled as he looked? He'd be all hard muscle under Charles' hands.

Charles huffed a breath and shifted in his seat, trying to cross his legs inconspicuously. He had fantasies about that hidden, albeit probably beautiful bod. Mostly, it envolved...well.

Dr. Lehnsherr would look up at him. He'd be caught, doing something wrong. Texting, probably. And in that hauntingly deep rumble of German accent, he'd casually inform Charles he had detention.

Charles has never had detention.

Erik would put him at the blackboard and tell him to write something over and over. Halfway across the board, Charles would feel heat against his back. Then around his waist, and Charles would stiffen.

"Don't stop writing," Dr. Lehnsherr would whisper, huge, hot hands running down Charles' thighs. "Good boy." Charles would shiver and lean back into that stiff heat, would melt a little. And then Erik would start to--

"Mr. Xavier," Charles' head snapped up, eyes wide. Dr. Lehnsherr standing right beside him. Charles stared. He could /smell/ the professor's musk, his confidence. And was at perfect level to see his...want.

Charles turned red.

"I'd like to see you after class."

"...yes sir."


End file.
